


Right There all Along

by Annie46fic



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bottom Sam, F/M, M/M, Wincest Big Bang 2015
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-06
Updated: 2015-09-06
Packaged: 2018-04-19 08:49:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4740245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Annie46fic/pseuds/Annie46fic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam realizes the last woman he had sexual relations with was Amelia and that was nearly three years ago. Worse than that Sam realizes that he just isn’t having any sexual feelings at all, and he has become virtually celibate.  When he confesses to Dean his brother decides to <i>help him out</i> and takes Sam glamping, to a masseur and, finally, to a brothel.  When Dean offers to share a girl with Sam the younger Winchester finally realizes what he needs to reawaken his sex life – he needs his brother.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Right There all Along

**Author's Note:**

> A huge, huge thank you to my wonderful artist stormbrite - who was forever awesome. Her work makes the story look good - so please go and give her some kudos either on [LJ](http://stormbrite.livejournal.com/13973.html) or [A03](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4708979)

Sam was in a bar when it happened; he couldn’t remember the name of the bar, hell he couldn’t even remember the name of the town but his whole body was hyper aware all of a sudden, tense and on edge, the sudden comprehension harsh and disturbing.

There was a couple two stools down; the man leaned against the bar while the woman perched uncomfortably on the hard, red cushion. She was dressed like a hooker – might have been a hooker for all he knew – with a top cut so low that her nipples were showing, thighs creamy white beneath the black leather skirt she wore. The man was grinning, eyes dark with lust, fingers tracing patterns on the woman’s chest, tips getting lower and lower until they were resting between the cleft of her breasts. She shifted so that her legs fell open and the man stepped into the empty space, grabbing her chin with his other hand and kissing her hungrily.

Sam put the beer bottle down on the table and stared, openly, at the spectacle. He wasn’t the only one, most of the clientele had wide eyes and gaping mouths. He guessed that the couple didn’t much care and so he continued to look, his brain finally registering the fact that he wasn’t even the slightest bit interested – not really – nothing in his body was showing any eagerness for what was happening, no secret longing, no jealousy, and no shifting awkwardly in his jeans. It was then that the stark fact hit him between the eyes and he rubbed at his face trying to tell himself that he wasn’t crying.

Amelia had been the last woman he had touched - in a sexual way – the last woman he had kissed with purpose, the last woman he had invited into his bed, and the last woman who had actually seen him naked. That had been nearly three years ago, before the trials, before the mark, and before Gadreel’s unwelcome possession. 

He slammed down the beer and got to his feet, unsteady as if he’d just consumed ten bottles instead of two. Dean was probably still out and about and he had a terrible longing to be alone in the darkness of the motel room, buried deep beneath the damp scented sheets.

****

There were reasons to be cheerful, to face the world with a smile rather than a frown. The mark was long gone and the threat that it brought upon them vanquished. They hunted still but their hunts were getting easier, less dangerous. They were friends now, as well as brothers, they actually had downtime together; hustling pool and playing poker, and visiting places of _interest_ like the world’s biggest ball of twine. Dean had been talking about Disneyworld with some real conviction and Sam had been perusing the web for things to do rather than monsters to gank. For the first time in near on twenty years they were in sync and it was awesome, and Sam had no desire to ruin the harmony that they had found by being miserable and pathetic.

He kept the light off; the room was cloying, blackness thick and all encompassing. Beneath the covers his naked body was cold and he could feel goose bumps rising along his arms and legs. There was pay for view porn on the menu and – no doubt – Dean had brought along some of his precious _Busty Asian Beauty_ magazines. There was plenty of material for Sam to _get his teeth into_ but shockingly he knew it would be useless. He wondered, randomly, when being a hunter meant taking some sort of vow of chastity. He’d never been a ‘love ‘em and leave ‘em type’ like his brother, but he’d enjoyed sex, enjoyed the closeness that it brought, and always tried to be a kind and considerate lover. As far as he knew Amelia hadn’t had any complaints, and neither had any of his previous lovers. He wouldn’t have called himself _a sexual being_ but he hadn’t wanted to give up the physical act altogether.

He sighed and rolled onto his side; there were stupid tears in his eyes now and he felt angry at himself. Things were good, weren’t they? He didn’t really need to beat himself up over this. His mind wandered to Dean then, his brother had always been the _Casanova_ of the two of them. Dean had had more random hook-ups than Sam had had hot meals, and it hadn’t been unusual to see him leave a bar with more than one woman on his arm. Biting his lip Sam realized that he hadn’t actually seen Dean with a woman for a while. He knew that when he had been a demon and affected by the mark Dean had slept around, but there hadn’t been much evidence of it recently. In fact, tonight, Dean was watching **Avenger’s Age of Ultron** for the hundredth time and, as far as Sam knew, he was watching it alone. It was bad enough that Sam wasn’t having sex anymore but Dean . . . .

Sam sat up in bed, it was silent in the room and all he could hear was his own breathing. He was nearing 36 years old and the hopes he once had for settling down had long since faded. They had both tried on several occasions, and it had always ended in failure. Now he didn’t think he had anything to offer a woman. He was, let’s face it, damaged goods; the only constants in his life were Dean, the Impala and the bunker. He smiled wryly into the murk. The cold brick building they called _home_ was hardly a fit place to have a family of any sort, and he could never imagine taking a woman back there, never imagine sitting at the huge table with anyone other than his brother.

He wondered if he might discuss this with Dean, maybe have a heart to heart, see if his brother felt the same but even as the thought came into his head he dismissed it. Dean would never talk about it, and if Sam mentioned his own _problems_ he was certain that his brother would glean amusement from it. Either that or he might suggest they went and _did something about it_. Dean might force Sam to visit a brothel, or worse . . . hire in a hooker. Dean always looked out for Sam, and would stop at nothing to make Sam happy. Fuck, Dean had died for Sam so getting him laid would be a small and easy step.

****

The road to Hell, they say, is paved with good intentions and, despite the fact he had told himself he definitely wouldn’t, he ended up blurting it out to Dean over breakfast in a Denny’s _All You Can Eat Breakfast_ outlet in the middle of nowhere.

“How long is it since you . . . since you . . . ?” he could feel the tips of his ears grow red. “Have been with a woman?” It came out too fast, words tumbling over each other, and he felt like a stupid teenager rather than a man heading towards forty.

“Bit personal, Sam,” Dean said and smirked just as Sam knew he would. “What brought this on?”

“I-I . . . .” And now his face was flaming. “I was in a bar a few nights ago, and this couple were virtually having sex in front of me,” he paused and rubbed the back of his neck. “And it didn’t do anything for me. It didn’t even register. Fuck,” he swallowed stupidly. “It’s been so long since . . . I-I. . . .”And his throat closed so that he couldn’t even get the rest of his sentence out.

“ _Demon-me_ certainly got some.” Dean tactfully ignored his obvious difficulties and, for that, Sam was pathetically grateful. “But _me-me_ – well, it’s been a while. I guess that Amazon chick Lydia was the last one I can actually remember. Although that girl back before the trials - the one at the Cassity’s ranch – Ellie, I think her name was . . . she offered it.”

“And you turned her down, right?” Sam could barely recall those few days; in fact he had a hard time remembering anything before the trials. Since Dean had stopped him completing them their lives had been pretty manic (even more manic than usual), and he tried not to think about it, tried to put it out of his mind.

“Had quite a bit on my mind,” Dean said and his expression turned serious. “She was hot, I do remember that.” He took a sip of his orange juice and shook his head. “Does it worry you? The fact that you haven’t had _relations_ with anyone for a while.”

“A while, not since Amelia.” Sam couldn’t look his brother in the eye. “And when that couple were going at it I didn’t even feel any envy. I felt nothing, Dean. I was so fucking numb it scared me.”

“Do you want to have sex?” It might have been a stupid question but given their conversation it was a valid one and, the worse thing was, Sam didn’t have an answer. He shrugged his mouth dry as dust.

“I don’t know.” It sounded lame but he didn’t know what else to say. They had sworn that there would be no more lies and that they would be honest with one another so, even in this, he was going to be frank and open. “I hadn’t even thought about it until then.”

“You still . . . .” Dean made the universal sign for jerking off, and Sam slapped his hand before their waitress saw him.

“No.” And now he thought about it he realized it was the bleak truth. 

“Jesus, Sam.” Dean wasn’t teasing him, to be honest Dean looked sad, his eyes shadowed, and mouth turned down. “Then we ought to be doing something about this. Everyone needs a little release now and again, even if it’s only with the palm sisters.” His mouth quirked slightly. “No wonder you’re so tense, no wonder you always have bad dreams. You need to get laid, Sam.”

He chewed on his bottom lip and stared morosely at his scrambled eggs. He knew his brother was right, but he didn’t know what to do about it. Girls weren’t exactly beating a path to his door.

“Leave it to me.” Dean seemed happier now he had some sort of project and Sam felt his flesh heat up again as he watched his brother pick up a napkin and start to scrawl something on it. “You’ll be fine, Sam,” he added, as he continued to scribble down his _plan_. 

****

The napkin was covered in Dean’s messy scrawl and Sam was struggling to read most of it. He could, however, read the heading which Dean had underlined and written in block capitals **GET SAM SOME ACTION!!!!!**.

Sam licked his lips and stared at the words until they blurred in front of him. Dean was sitting on his own bed completely ignoring him; he was reading an old car magazine and chomping down on Cheetos and he looked so calm and relaxed that Sam wanted to slap him. They had finished the job, a simple haunting, and were heading back to the bunker. As far as Sam was aware there was nothing else on the horizon, but Dean had _decided_ that they were going to have a few stops along the way and he hadn’t told Sam where or why.

It wasn’t as if Sam couldn’t guess; Dean had his own laptop now and didn’t need to use Sam’s but, even without an internet trail to follow, it was clear that Dean had been up late at night surfing suitable _establishments_ something that Sam had suspected he would do as soon as he had found out about Sam’s _problem_. He should be relieved that Dean hadn’t teased him as much as he feared, but Dean’s genuine concern made him feel worse than ever.

They had worked so hard and Sam was exhausted, not by the job they’d just finished that had been child’s play, in fact most jobs in the past year had been so simple it had been laughable. Most of the world’s evil seemed to have vanished with the darkness. That fight had been a hard one and they had lost more friends, more allies. Castiel was gone, Crowley too. It was hard to admit but part of Sam actually missed _the King of Hell_ , but all dark things had gone into the Darkness, and been banished along with it. At times Sam wondered if they would ever really obtain peace and normality. This was the closest they had come since – well, since never. Sure Dean had had something with Lisa, and Sam with Jess before Amelia, but they’d never had this together before and he hadn’t realized just how much he wanted it.

“I can hear you thinking from here.” Dean licked the yellow tips of his fingers and smirked at Sam, eyes glinting. “There’s nothing to be scared of Sammy, big brother will take care of you.”

“That’s what scares me the most!” Sam felt his mouth curve into a smile. It felt tight and forced but he hoped Dean wouldn’t notice.

“You wound me, Sammy.” Dean clutched at his heart dramatically. “After all I’ve done for you, bitch.”

“Jerk.” Sam slumped back on his own bed and closed his eyes for a moment. Tomorrow was going to be a very, very long day.

****

Sam opened his eyes with a start, the familiar rumble of the engine had ceased and the car had rolled to a halt. He hadn’t intended to fall asleep but it was a warm day and the sun had been bright against his skin, the comforting heat lulling him. 

“Hey.” Dean put a hand on his shoulder, a quick but affectionate squeeze. “We’re here.”

“Here?” His heart started to pound and he licked at his dry mouth. It appeared as if they were in the middle of nowhere and, try as he might, he couldn’t see anything.

“Top of the list.” Dean waved the napkin at him but it was too fast for Sam to actually see anything. “Some real R & R – no cheap and cheesy motels, thought we might get back to nature.”

“Back to nature?” He should be glad that they weren’t outside some strip joint or brothel, but he was too dazed and confused to think straight. 

Dean grinned and pointed through the windscreen and Sam followed his finger to a gate where the sign read, **‘Elysium Camping Experience – Welcome to the Natural World’**.  
“We’re going camping? You hate camping.”

“I think they call it _glamping_ now.” Dean cracked his knuckles and opened the door. “We don’t even have to put up our own tents.”

“Really?” Sam could hear the doubt in his voice. “I mean, how can we afford it?”

“John Connor has good credit!” Dean poked his head through the open door. “So he can afford to treat his little brother to a couple of nights on a luxury campsite.” He put his hand in his pocket and pulled out a rumpled looking leaflet. “Complete with pool, spa and massage treatments. Real feather beds in the tents and breakfast supplied.” He winked. “We need to start with your physical and mental well-being, Sam. Things haven’t exactly been easy these past - I was gonna say few years, but to be honest it’s been fucking decades. What with hell, your soul, hallucinations, the trials, angel possession, the fucking mark and the darkness,” he pause and swallowed. “I know that some of this is on me too, and we both need to stop. Fuck, the world will keep turning without us.”

“Are you saying we should stop hunting?”

“For a while yeah. I know how much it must have cost you to tell me, well what you told me the other night, but you wanna’ know something? It got to me too. How much have we sacrificed? How much have we lost? I know it’s damn well ingrained in us, and we are never gonna’ totally stop, but we can chill for a while at least.”

“Thanks.” It hurt too much to say anymore, his throat thick and sore. Dean nodded quickly, turning away so Sam couldn’t even attempt to read his expression. He was so fucking grateful to his brother that he couldn’t even start to explain, and he wiped his hand across his eyes angry at his own stupid weakness.

****

The bed was possibly the softest he’d ever laid on, Egyptian cotton was like a balm against his rough skin, and the pillow felt as if it had been stuffed with marshmallows. Above him the canvas of the tent was deep blue and high, the air around him smelling sweet with the scent of grass and moss. Next to him he could hear his brother sigh blissfully, and he rolled onto his side. Dean was facing him, lying on his own bed, boots kicked off. Over in the corner the wood burning stove flickered, low flames throwing out just the right amount of heat. There was a small refrigerator and a coffee pot, some very glossy looking mugs and two fur covered bean bags. Sam thought back to the few times they’d had to camp out as kids, one ragged tent that barely covered them, sleeping bags that had no zips and hard earth beneath. He wondered, randomly, what his dad would have thought about this, and he chuckled to himself when his brain supplied an answer to that question.  
“Pretty sweet isn’t it?” Dean wriggled his toes, pink skin showing through the hole in his sock.  
“Yeah,” Sam said and couldn’t hold back a yawn.

“Relax Sammy,” Dean’s voice was low and vaguely amused. “That’s what we’re here for.”  
“This is. . . .” He had no words. He felt lighter suddenly as if he might float off the mattress and soar up into the sky. Outside the sun was setting and the tent was shadowed and dim. It was warm and safe and Dean was here, and he couldn’t imagine anything better.

****

He had no idea what time it was when he opened his eyes; there were several lanterns hanging around the tent and they were on burning soft and hazy. Sam’s body felt heavy but in a pleasant way, his limbs didn’t ache as much as they usually did and his mind felt clear. He lay still for a moment breathing in and out steadily. He could feel every single nerve in his body and every single movement. To his surprise he realized his stomach was rumbling and, even more shocking, his cock was half hard in his boxers. 

“Hey.” He was acutely aware of his brother; Dean was only a few feet away and Sam felt himself flushing even though he was certain his semi boner didn’t show. “I don’t know about you Sammy, but I’m starved.”

“Me too.” Sam rubbed his stomach and let his fingers play casually lower. His cock seemed more than interested and he licked his lips unable to believe what was happening. “Um, are we goin out or eatin in?”

“Going out. Got reservations at the finest steak house in town,” Dean’s voice was closer and Sam realized he’d gotten up and was coming over. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Um . . . your plan seems to be working.” He was highly embarrassed and he pulled his hand back reluctantly willing his cock to calm down. 

“Yeah?” Dean sounded pleased and, again, he didn’t tease, didn’t say anything inappropriate. “So why don’t we get dressed up all smart and see if we can find someone who takes your fancy. Use it or lose it, Sammy.”

“It’s Sam,” he tried to sound aggrieved but he couldn’t keep the joy out of his tone. “Jerk! It’s Sam.”

****

The steak house was far more sophisticated than they were used to; Dean had insisted they wear smart shirts with clean pressed jeans and Sam still felt a little out of place. Most of the clientele were couples, with the men dressed in suits and the women in cocktail dresses. People stared at them as they took their seats and Sam wondered what they might be thinking. It had been a while since they had been mistaken for a gay couple, but it was still possible. Dean kept a possessive hand on the small of his back as they shuffled through the restaurant and even pulled the chair out for him as he sat down. He felt hot to the tips of his ears and he made a big thing of looking at the menu. He felt weird and out of place and, suddenly, he just wanted to be back in their luxury tent lying on the soft mattress, letting his body relax again, feeling something for the first time in forever.  
“Sam,” Dean’s voice broke into his reverie and he looked up to see anxious green eyes staring back at him. “You okay, dude?”

“Yeah. I just feel a bit like a fish out of water here.”

“There’s some hot waitresses though, dude,” Dean said and nodded sagely. “You might get some action sooner rather than later.”

Sam didn’t reply, he thought even the waitresses were out of his league, and he was certain that none of them would be interested in damaged goods. Even in his smartest clothing he wasn’t exactly a catch. His hair was too long - fuck knows how many months it had been since he’d even thought about cutting it. He hadn’t trained for a while and he knew that he was losing his muscle mass which, given his height, made him look skinny and underfed. There were wrinkles around his eyes that hadn’t always been there, and he didn’t smile as much as he used to. Dean, on the other hand, had always been the _handsome_ one and, despite everything, his brother still looked – well – hot. Dean’s shoulders were still as broad as ever, his red gold hair was threaded with silver but it suited him. He still had bright eyes and those sinful looking lips - and shit, when had Sam started thinking about Dean as attractive? How come he was suddenly noticing that his brother’s lips were thick and full? He gasped and took a swallow of his beer almost choking as it went down fast. Dean stared at him with curious and worried eyes, and Sam prayed to whoever was listening that he didn’t ask why Sam was acting so strangely.

****

Sam woke to the scent of bacon and the hiss of frying eggs. He rolled over and sniffed, surprised that his stomach rumbled so much considering the amount of meat he’d eaten the night before.  
“Rise and shine, Sammy.” Dean was standing at the small stove that came with the tent. He was wearing an old **AC/DC** tee-shirt and patched jeans, and he looked ready to face the world.

“You’re cooking breakfast?” It sounded instantly stupid, but he was relaxed and his brain was still waking up, his mouth a long way behind.

“I often make breakfast at home.” Dean pretended to look pissed.

“Yeah, toast and cereal don’t count!” Sam stretched and wriggled his toes against the soft cotton of the bed.

“I wanted to make up for last night’s disappointment.” Dean turned down the stove and looked round. “I thought you might land at least one of those waitresses.”

“I told you - I think they were used to a much more sophisticated clientele.”

“They were pretty, Sam.” Dean looked oddly concerned. “That blonde one was just your type.”

Sam swallowed, he wanted to tell his brother that blonde women hadn’t been his type since Jess burned on the ceiling. He wanted to tell him that most of his hook-ups (including Amelia) had been slender brunettes. He appreciated everything Dean was doing but there was something in the back of his mind, an itch he couldn’t scratch, an odd sensation that everything was wrong somehow, and that everything felt distinctly _off-kilter_.

“Yeah, well it doesn’t matter.” Sam sat up and swung his feet out of the bed, wriggling his toes against the soft rug. “Like I said yesterday, I already feel much more relaxed and I . . . .”

Dean held up a hand and shook his head. “TMI, Sam. I’m happy for you, but I don’t really want to share.”

Sam laughed. In reality there was nothing really to share, he’d been chilled out yesterday and he’d gotten a semi-boner. He hadn’t really done anything about it, couldn’t with his brother in the bed across from his. Sure, they’d lived in close quarters over the years but there were certain lines that he was sure they’d never crossed. Never watched porn together, never talked about their sex lives (at least not seriously), and never jerked off when the other was in the room. They were both adults, but Sam thought that maybe they were far too old to start that sort of thing now.

“Sorry.” He rubbed a hand across his face. “So what are our plans for today?”

“Massage, Sam.” Dean beamed as he turned back to the pan and started to flip the eggs. “They have great therapists here apparently, and I’ve treated us both to an hour long session. I’ve heard they’re very thorough.”

“You always do a good job of getting rid of tension.” Sam walked over to the small wooden table and sat, cautiously, on the slightly wobbly stool.

“True, but better with tiny delicate hands eh?”

Sam nodded but his heart wasn’t in it; he should be excited about a _proper_ massage but he already knew it wouldn’t lead to anything. These women were trained professionals. It wasn’t like they were going to offer anything other than massage, and he would feel pretty mortified if their ministrations actually turned him on. He remembered the trials and how sick he’d felt, body aching all over, muscles tight and taut. Dean had been so worried, angry almost, and eaten up with concern. One night he’d laid Sam down on the bed and worked out some of the pain with his fists, clumsy and on the side of too much, it had made Sam feel almost 100% better. Not so much the massage, but the sheer contact and the touch of another person’s hands on his battered body. They had never been the most tactile of families, and hugs were usually reserved for those _back from the dead_ experiences but that day Dean had touched him without any qualms, touched him with genuine love and tenderness. He shook himself and stared over at his brother. Dean was his one constant, the one thing in his life that he could always rely on. Despite everything that had happened between them he was the one real love of Sam’s life. The relationships he’d had with women, even Jess, had never been as intense. He needed Dean. He had realized that a long time ago, he needed his brother and, as time went by, it had gotten harder and harder to function without him.

How the fuck a quick conversation about breakfast, and a potential massage had turned into an angst session about his co-dependency he didn’t know, but he shrugged it off before Dean noticed and made a big thing about eating his breakfast and talking loudly about how much he was looking forward to the day ahead.

****

He did feel more relaxed, his eyes were closed and his body almost too limp to move. He was naked but for a strategically placed towel, and the woman who had been working on him was standing over him, her hands still massaging his lower back. She had, indeed, been very thorough, and there wasn’t much of his body that she hadn’t touched, despite this she hadn’t _woken_ anything else in him and he didn’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed.

***  
“All done.” She tapped his shoulder gently, and handed him a robe. “You can lie there for a while and when you’re ready, you can go and join your. . . ,” she paused and he could almost feel her blush. “Um.”

“He’s just my friend.” Sam knew they were booked in under different names so it was easy to see what she was getting at. “We are on a bachelor weekend, y’know.”

“Oh yeah.” He could hear the amusement in her voice. “We get a lot of those.”

“I bet.” He rolled his shoulders and sighed. “Thanks,” he added. “You’ve done a great job.”

“My pleasure. It’s not often I get to work on a body as good as yours,” she replied and there was a tinge of embarrassment in her voice, and the hand on his shoulder shook a little. “I’m kind of relieved that you’re not . . . .” She laughed wryly. “Well, you know.”

Sam knew he should be saying something right about then. It was obvious that she was flirting with him, and giving him the opportunity to do something about it. He knew his brother would have been pulling the woman down onto the table by now, but he wasn’t Dean and flirting had never come as easy to him. His mouth was stupidly dry and he could feel his face grow hot under her scrutiny. Her hand was still on his shoulder and she gave him a little squeeze of encouragement but he still remained quiet, not really knowing what to do or say. Perhaps it had been so long he’d forgotten how to flirt, forgotten how to interact with members of the opposite sex. There was an awful cloying silence and then her hand slipped off his shoulder and he heard her place the robe on the chair next to him. Her sigh was followed by the tap of her heels on the wooden floor and the slight but obvious slam of the door as she left.

Dean would be so fucking disappointed in him. He’d had a perfect opportunity to _get some action_ , and he’d just let it go. He got to his feet and pulled on the robe. The scent of the oil made him feel suddenly nauseous and he rubbed a hand across his face, swallowing hard so he didn’t humiliate himself by weeping. What the living fuck was wrong with him? Why wasn’t he more like Dean? Why couldn’t he just take his chances and just _go for it_.

“Sam?” His brother poked his head around the door. He was wearing a matching robe and his hair was standing up in messy spikes on his head. There was color in his cheeks and his grin was wide and smug. “I was right,” he said with a wink. “They were VERY thorough.”

Sam managed a weak smile; he could virtually smell sex and he knew his brother had, in his own words, _done the dirty_. 

“Congratulations,” he managed to say before his throat closed and he kept his eyes down, stupidly ashamed to look his brother in the eye.  
“Don’t tell me you didn’t?” Dean shook his head, astonishment coloring his features. “My girl told me that your girl thought you were really, really hot.” He frowned. “You turned her down, didn’t you?” He lifted a hand to silence Sam before he even opened his mouth. “Fuck, Sam! I thought you wanted to.”

Sam couldn’t form words, he felt like a thirteen year old boy having his first fucking experience with women. Shit, he wasn’t even acting like an adult anymore.

“Sammy?” Dean was by his side in an instant and his arms came around Sam’s shoulders, holding him close. Sam couldn’t stop the tears then and, once the floodgates had opened, they just flowed out of him, sobs shaking his body and wetting Dean’s shoulder and neck. He hadn’t cried like this in decades. He hadn’t cried like this since his brother had been dragged into hell, hadn’t even let himself go like this when Metatron had _killed_ his brother, and Dean’s _body_ had gone missing. “Hey, hey,” Dean was still talking. “Sam. Sammy, its okay. It’s all gonna’ be okay.”

He wanted to say something. He wanted to say that it would never be ‘okay’. He was broken and damaged beyond repair, and it would never be okay again.

****

“You’ve been saving that up for quite a while, haven’t you Sammy?” Dean sat down on the bed next to him and shifted so he was closer. He didn’t touch Sam, not this time, but his look was tender, surprisingly understanding and there was no teasing and no snark. Sam took it for what it was and gave Dean the finger. It was weak and half-hearted but it made his brother smile and it was enough.  
“I’m sorry,” he managed, eventually. “You did all of this.” He swept his arm around the tent. “And I epically failed.”

“No you didn’t, Sammy. Perhaps you just aren’t ready.”

Sam sighed. There was no doubt that he felt better, much better if truth be told. His body didn’t ache anymore, and he was sleeping like a baby with no nightmares and no guilt to keep him awake. The last few days had been great, just him and his brother, together and in harmony and he couldn’t regret it.

“Maybe.” Sam chewed on his lip, a teenaged habit that he hadn’t ever grown out of. “That girl – the masseur – she was pretty and really sweet, but when she touched me it just didn’t happen.”

“No boner?” Dean smirked earning another finger from Sam.

“No, Dean. No fucking boner.”

“Perhaps I’m going about this all wrong.” Dean was frowning, forehead wrinkled in concentration. “Maybe we need to be more blatant with it.”

“More blatant?” Sam’s eyes were sore through his meltdown and he just wanted to lie down for a while.

“Yeah. Perhaps we should be taking things less seriously and go for the more overtly erotic.”

If he hadn’t felt so foolish, guilty and miserable Sam might have taken the bait but instead he just stared at Dean hoping he didn’t look as stupid as he felt. If he’d known then what his brother was planning he might have protested more, but instead he just nodded weakly therefore agreeing, subconsciously, to whatever his brother had in mind.

“I want you to be happy Sam,” Dean was still talking. “All I ever want is for you to be happy.”

“I am happy, Dean.” It was the truth and he hoped that Dean believed him.  
And, despite what had happened earlier, he was surprised to know and feel that he meant it.

****

“A brothel? Really?” Sam stared at the building in front of him as if he couldn’t quite believe his eyes.  
“A high class brothel, Sam.” Dean stared him down. “The owner is one Angelina De Montfort. She owes me.”

“The Madame in a brothel owes you?” Sam tried to keep the incredulity out of his voice. “Do I even want to know what for?”

“I did a job for her back when we weren’t working together.” Dean rubbed a hand across his face. “She had another place then, and I got rid of the vengeful spirit that was haunting her.” He winked. “I went back a few times, and got _paid in kind_. When she moved here she invited me to _sample_ it.” He seemed unfazed by Sam’s dazed expression and continued regardless. “I’m sure she won’t mind me bringing you along.”

“There are no words.” Sam licked his lips and shook his head. The _glamping_ site had been fun in a lot of ways. He’d enjoyed the unexpected luxury, the pool and the spa, the visit to the steak house and eating good healthy food for once but this, this was something else.

“Come on Sam. I know that this isn’t easy for you, I know it was never easy apart from when you were soulless,” he said and laughed wryly. “Casual hook-ups were never your style, and I get that I do, but you’re not a kid anymore. Hell, you’re not a naïve young virgin and it isn’t right that you seem to have resigned yourself to a life of celibacy.”  
Sam glanced out of the window at the building in front of them. It was smart and new, the walls painted a subtle shade of burgundy, the windows covered by tasteful black drapes. There was no indication of what might lie behind the outer façade, and there shouldn’t be any reason to feel uneasy about going inside.

“I’ve not resigned myself to that sort of life,” he hadn’t realized he was talking until the words left his mouth. “It’s just that in the past none of my relationships have been particularly successful. Hell, most of the women I’ve slept with have ended up dead!” He felt sudden anger at the lump in his throat, and the sting of tears in his eyes. Shit, he hadn’t cried in front of Dean in over a decade and now he was weeping all the time at the drop of a hat.

“It’s the life, Sam,” Dean’s voice was steady, the voice of reason as usual. “It’s not as if any of the other hunters we’ve met have been any more fortunate. Look at Bobby for instance, one dead wife and a girlfriend that actually came from Purgatory. His only chance of action with the hot Sherriff was ruined by his own death. Garth ended up married to a fucking were, and mom had to make a deal with yellow eyes to get dad back. It never ends well, Sam.” 

Dean’s eyes were on his face and he realized that he’d deliberately not even mentioned his own failed relationships, with Cassie, with Lisa. Dean had always been all about family, and this life, this terrible life they led had denied him even that.  
“You’re right, Dean.” He managed to stem the threatened tide. “About everything. I should man-up. I should stop being such a wuss. Hell, I’m nearing thirty six and in a few months you’ll be fucking forty. We’ve done so much, seen so much, no wonder it’s hard to settle. Fuck, it is hard enough to even talk to a girl let alone have a relationship with one.”

Dean was silent for a moment but his eyes never left Sam’s face, then he nodded once and gestured towards the brothel, grin bright and eager.

“So,” he said. “We going in, or what?”

Sam grinned back then and made a vow that he was going to really go for it this time.

“We’re going in,” he replied.

****

Sam sat on one of the soft couches. The room was dimly lit, but he could see that it was freshly painted and scrupulously clean. There were women everywhere, beautiful women of all shapes and sizes. There were also a few men, handsome and muscular, sitting casually on the arms of the chairs or lying on the thick fur rugs. A fire flickered warmly, and the scent of roses permeated the air. Sam hadn’t realized how tense he was until Dean sat down beside him and put a hand on his shoulder.

“Hey,” he whispered. “Relax.”

“I am relaxed!” It was a lie and Dean knew it. His brother chuckled and patted Sam’s thigh.

“These girls are professionals, Sammy. They’ll do anything you want, okay?”

Sam glanced over to the women; they were tastefully dressed, long robes covering most of their bodies, clean hair hanging around their shoulders, blondes, brunettes, red-heads. The men were tall, their bodies firm under cotton tee-shirts and expensive denim. There was, indeed, something for everyone and he shouldn’t feel as if he wanted to get up and run but he did, panic making his heart beat faster, his mouth dust dry. He felt stupid. Hell, he’d beaten down Lucifer, and his brother had killed Death, so a few high class working girls shouldn’t fill him with terror.

“Sam,” Dean’s voice was low, his tone exasperated. “If you want we can get a room together. These girls are into all kinds of kinky stuff. I bet they’d like to share.”

Sam didn’t think he could feel anymore shocked and he almost ricked his neck as his head swiveled round so fast. Dean’s expression was calm, his green eyes full of concern and encouragement. They’d done some pretty fucked up things in the past, but if they did this . . . he bit his lip again and chewed so hard he tasted blood. Dean must have sensed his panic because he put a hand on Sam’s shoulder and shushed him gently.

“It’s okay,” he whispered again. “Come on Sam, it’ll be fun and I’ve got nothing you haven’t seen already.”

His mind wandered back in time, back to when his brother had been hell bound, back to when he’d caught Dean with the _double mint twins_. He’d been a lot younger then, and he could remember how embarrassed he felt but, under all of the mortification he recalled feeling strangely turned on, his body reacting to the sight of his brother writhing on the bed with two very naked girls. They’d never talked about it since, there’d been too much going on at the time, hunting the seven deadly sins, and Ruby trying to get Dean out of his deal. Now he could see the scene in front of him as if it was yesterday and he shifted on the couch, the realization hitting him like a punch in the gut. He wanted to share a girl with Dean. He wanted to get naked with his brother.

He didn’t speak, couldn’t trust his voice. All he could do was nod, the action quick and sharp.

“That a yes?” Dean sounded cautiously eager and hopeful. “Are you sure Sammy?”

His jeans were tight all of a sudden and he felt sweat break out on his forehead, his hair clinging wetly to the back of his neck. The fire which had been so comforting only minutes earlier seemed hot and cloying and his shaking fingers pulled awkwardly at his shirt buttons. Dean beamed at him then and turned to the girls, his eyes sweeping over them.

“Who takes your fancy, Sam? Which two shall we pick?” Dean sounded as if they were going out shopping for clothing rather than looking for sex partners, and Sam wondered how he could be so calm. He looked at the women and he realized that he didn’t really care about them, that it didn’t really matter which one of them he chose. 

“The blonde one is cute,” Dean was still talking, already getting to his feet and holding out his hand. “Tall too.”

Sam coughed, throat closing. He felt odd, too big for his own skin, his cock beginning to harden in his boxers, arousal making him feel light-headed. 

“Yeah.” They were doing this, it was happening. “Yeah, sure.”

He barely glanced at the young girl who took his brother’s outstretched hand, barely registered what she looked like, or how she was dressed. He followed the two of them blindly out of the room and up the soft carpeted stairs. He knew he was turned on, and he prayed that Dean would think the girl was actually doing it for him because he couldn’t bear it if Dean knew the truth. He didn’t know how to explain himself to his brother. It wasn’t the girl he wanted right then, it wasn’t gentle curves or large breasts, it was – it was – to his disgust, it was his brother he wanted.

****

Dean had chosen a redhead for himself; small and curvy and wearing something green. That was all that registered with Sam as he watched his brother sit the girl on the bed, watched him whisper something into her ear.

“Hey,” the girl beside him said and tugged at his shoulder to gain his attention. “I’m feeling neglected.”

He swallowed hard and turned so that he could look at her properly. She was, indeed, a tall girl with tanned skin and blonde hair that tumbled round her bare shoulders. There was a look of Jess about her and he wondered, vaguely, if Dean had chosen her for that reason. She was stunning to look at, and her eyes were full of invitation. It shouldn’t matter that this was a random hook-up, hell he was paying for the pleasure but . . . he glanced back at his brother. Dean was tugging at _his_ girl’s clothing, and mouthing at her neck. Sam saw her carefully manicured hands reach around and start working on Dean’s belt, pulling at his pants, the flesh of his ass suddenly on display. To his horror Sam felt his jeans grow tighter and he realized that he was turned on by the sight of his brother’s nakedness, by the sight of his brother’s skin. He made a soft, choking sound and the girl next to him laughed delightedly and shifted so that she was sitting astride him, her hands on his shoulders, her near naked breasts pressed up against his chest.

“Yeah,” she whispered. “Do it like big brother.”

He was hard and in need of friction so he pulled her closer, shifting so that he could rub his erection against her. He could see Dean over her shoulder, see him getting naked, see him bury his head into the woman’s ample breasts, hear his dirty talk, not bothering to hold anything back, putting on a show for Sam. 

The girl on top of him was whimpering loudly, writhing and wriggling, her hands on his shirt buttons, long nails tangling clumsily. Sam grunted; he didn’t want her hands on him; her small fingers felt wrong somehow and the position he’d gotten her in reminded him too much of the first time he’d fucked Ruby, the grimy squat, her skinny arms around his neck, those sloe eyes that had held so many secrets, so much evil. He could almost taste the sulphur, taste the forbidden blood. His erection withered so fast it must have been noticeable because the girl stopped moving, her eyes on his face full of pity and concern.

He pushed her off and she landed on her side with an ungainly thump. Sam’s head was spinning and there were tears in his eyes again. He heard someone call him but it was distant, an echo in his brain and he ignored it, getting to his feet and running, running out of the room and into the hall, he ran mindless and empty until he got to the door and then he fumbled the keys to the Impala and scrambled inside, the engine rumbling loudly as he pulled away.

He had no idea where he was when he finally stopped; out of town somewhere, trees and bushes hiding him from sight. There was a field in the distance and he could see a dog running across it. He’d always wanted a dog he thought, randomly, that’s why he’d loved Riot so much. Riot, who had been part of his life for over a year, part of his lost life with Amelia. He’d thought himself settled, hoped he’d found something that he’d never had before. As usual though it had ended with the return of his brother but he didn’t resent Dean anymore, he couldn’t. 

He buried his head in his hands and let the tears come, crying seemed to have come second nature to him recently and he wondered if he was shedding decades of emotion all at once. He’d been hard today, he’d been so fucking turned on but he hadn’t wanted the girl. It might be sick, and he might go to hell for it (again), but he’d wanted Dean. He’d wanted Dean so damn much.

And now he was pretty much damned.

****

The buzzing of his cell startled him, he opened his sticky eyes and realized that it was getting dark outside and his stomach was grumbling. The name **Dean** flashed up insistently on the screen and he swallowed hard, licking his lips before he put the phone to his ear.

“Where the fuck are you?” And his brother is angry that much is clear but as well as anger he can hear panic in Dean’s voice and he feels instantly guilty, excuses bubbling from his lips.

“I-I don’t know. I’m sorry, Dean. I-I. . . .”

“What the fuck did you mean checking out like that? One minute you’re there with that girl on top of you, the next minute you’re gone. Shit, Sammy you scared the living hell out of me.”

“Sorry,” he said again, his free hand fumbling for the keys. “I just couldn’t.”

“I thought the girl was a monster, or something,” Dean was still talking, still angry. “She was pretty fucking upset. Not to mention I didn’t get to finish what I’d started, if you get my drift.”

Sam couldn’t bring himself to apologize again. He put the key in the ignition and revved up the car. He could hear Dean’s harsh breaths in his ear and he tried to think of something else to say. He couldn’t tell Dean the truth, had no idea how his brother would react. How could he say that it was Dean who was turning him on, how could he explain that it had been Dean who’d caused him to think of sex, who had given him his first boner in a long time. They were brothers. Hell, he had never thought of Dean like this before, and it was freaking him out. 

“You better not crash my car,” Dean said, finally. “And when you get back to the motel we’re having a talk, Sam! And I know how much you love talking, so no saying no.”

Sam felt his hands shake and he gripped the wheel tighter; he had no idea what he was going to talk about, but he was certain that Dean wasn’t going to let this one go. He turned the Impala back onto the road and headed towards town wondering if this was the last time he was ever going to see his brother.

****

Incest; a dirty word but not a terrible one. Sam hadn’t exactly done any research on the subject, but on the drive back he catalogs everything he knows about the subject, (which isn’t much), his overactive mind whirling with the consequences of this sudden, unwanted and unexpected attraction.

He’d spent the best part of his life with Dean, during his formative years his brother was the only person he could trust, his one constant. Dean had been more than a brother, he’d been a father figure, a surrogate _mother_ and Sam’s best friend. Dean had taught Sam to tie up his shoe laces, ride a bike and swim. When his dad had been away on hunts, often for weeks on end, Dean had looked after him, fed him and clothed him. It was Dean that had taken extra jobs when the money had run out, it was Dean who’d nursed him through measles and mumps, Dean that had walked him to school and picked him up again even though it made him look _uncool_ to his friends.

They had always been frighteningly co-dependent; their fear of being alone, one without the other, had permeated their entire relationship. Dean had sold his soul so that Sam could live. Sam had thrown himself into the pit to save both his brother and humanity. Every time they’d tried to live apart it had been a disaster and, recently, they’d given up trying. They didn’t hunt much anymore but they were still living in each other’s pockets. They still went out to breakfast together, still spent a lot of time driving in the Impala, road trips for no reason other than the fact they wanted to travel. The only time they slept in separate rooms was when they were at _home_ in the bunker.

As he approached the city Sam pondered on the burning question of when he had started thinking of his brother as a potential sexual partner. He wondered if it was just a case of Dean being the only person in the world that Sam trusted, the only person in the world that had Sam’s back. Or the only person that knew who Sam was, knew about Sam’s faults – the demon blood, the fact he mislaid his fucking soul, and the fact that, after Dean had let Gadreel possess him, he’d treated his brother like shit. Sam stared out of the window at the long road ahead of him, at the looming buildings, another city, another day. He loved his brother, loved him more than life itself and that, right there, was the problem and the solution. Sam loved Dean and he knew, without question, that he would never love anyone as much or with such desperate conviction and that’s why he wanted him and would never, ever want anyone else.

****

Dean must have gotten a cab back to their motel room and he looks pissed when Sam finally gets through the door. It’s a much better room than they used to get when they were hunting, nice beds and tasteful, clean décor. His brother is slumped on the bed nearest the door staring at his cell. Sam’s standing stock still in the doorway as green eyes meet his.

“What the fuck?” Dean’s voice sounds harsh as if he’s been shouting. “You owe me an explanation Sammy, so sit down and fess up.”

Sam sat down on the opposite bed, his heart was thundering and he felt the blood leech from his face. He wanted a drink really badly and he wished that he’d gone to a bar somewhere because he really needed to be drunk to have this conversation.

“Sam,” Dean’s voice wavered a little and when he looked up his brother didn’t look angry just disappointed and confused. “You have to talk to me, man.”

“It wasn’t the girl.” Sam kept his eyes on his own knees, looked at a rip in the fabric of his jeans. “I mean, she was pretty like the masseur - she was nice too, but . . . ,” he paused and gulped and rubbed his eyes. “I . . . it . . . they just don’t do it for me anymore.”

“Is this because of what happened with Amelia? Or does it go back further than that? Is this because of that demon bitch? Or Jess?”

“No!” Sam sucked in a breath but he couldn’t look up, couldn’t bear to see his brother’s face when he actually said the words. “It wasn’t them. I-It was you.”

“Me?”

“I don’t know when it happened, or why.” Sam felt stupid tears sting at his lashes. “But I suddenly realized the only person I wanted was you.”

“Me!” Dean sounded stunned but the fury in his voice had gone completely and Sam took courage in that and, finally, looked up.

Green eyes met his, wide and bright and framed by long, long lashes. Freckles smattered across that familiar face, red stubble covered the cleft in the chin that they both shared, and Sam wanted to lean forward and kiss his brother even though he knew it wouldn’t be a good idea.

“Seriously Sam,” there was something in his brother’s tone that made him look closer. Dean wasn’t angry anymore, in fact there was a knowing smirk on his face. Who wouldn’t want to tap this?” He patted his own chest and Sam shook his head.

“Dean, this isn’t a joke.”

“I’m not laughing, Sam. Well, I’m not laughing at you – just with you.”

“You can’t be okay with this.” Sam heard the wavering of his own voice and he felt so damn foolish he almost took off again.

“Are you gay, Sam? I mean have you ever? You know? With another man?”

Sam shook his head. He hadn’t even experimented in college, he had been as straight as a die, and he’d never even thought about other men in those terms, until now.

“Are you sure you want this?” Dean got up from his own bed and flopped down next to Sam. “You have to be sure, because if we do this then it will change things so much there’ll be no going back.”

Sam was lost for words, he stared at Dean for a long moment and then, courage restored, and he bent forward and pressed his lips against his brother’s full ones. It was a chaste kiss, soft and gentle, but it was as full of promise and he hoped that Dean could feel just how serious he was.

****

He couldn’t pretend it wasn’t awkward. After the first kiss they just sat there for the longest time. Sam was looking at Dean and Dean was looking at Sam. They’d been in each other’s eye line for a lifetime and yet, here in this motel room, it felt like the first time and neither of them knew how to make the first move.

“Y’know, we should – um – be naked for what you’ve got in mind.”

Dean’s voice was steady and he moved towards Sam with some intent. Sam’s hands were shaking and he could hear his own breathing, labored and harsh. His cock was incredibly hard in his pants and he felt as if he might explode. He seemed to be frozen in place and Dean shook his head and moved forward, putting his hands on Sam’s shoulders.

“I want this too y’know,” he whispered. “There’s no need to be afraid, Sammy. It’s me, and y’know I’d never do anything to hurt you.”

As he was talking Dean’s fingers were moving down across Sam’s chest. They began to competently undo each button and then strong hands were pushing the shirt from his shoulders and pulling at the hem of his tee. Sam raised his arms and let Dean pull the heavy fabric over his head. He swallowed hard as those same hands settled on his belt.

“Take ‘em off, Sammy.” Dean leaned even closer and pressed his lips against Sam’s. “Take ‘em off, and let me see you.”

He pulled off his pants and boxers with almost obscene haste. His body was hot, flushed, his cock standing out against his stomach. He could feel it leaking, his balls already tight. He sat stock still watching as Dean removed his own clothing. It was as if he was in a dream and he prayed that he would never wake from such a good one. 

He had only a moment to think _Dean is beautiful_ before he was pushed back onto the bed and his brother was leaning over him, big and solid, his hands on Sam’s biceps, his thighs over Sam’s hips holding him in place. Sam’s cock brushed against Dean’s abdomen and he thought he might come there and then. It had been a long time and he hadn’t realized how sex starved he was. His whole body was so fucking sensitive and he wriggled obscenely so that their cocks brushed together the very sensation almost too much.

“You catching, Sammy?”

For a moment he had to think what his brother meant and then he got with the program and found himself nodding eagerly. He wanted everything, he wanted it all and he pulled Dean down once more kissing him hard and passionate, holding him as tight as he could. Dean kissed him back and it was amazing. He’d never kissed a man before and he certainly didn’t think he would ever be kissing his brother. He could feel the scrape of Dean’s stubble against his cheek; feel the softness of Dean’s lips beneath his own and he moaned loudly, biting at his brother’s plush lower lip.

“God, Dean,” he murmured. “I need . . . .”

“I know, Sammy but we have to take it slow. Okay? Let me . . . .” He felt his brother’s fingers move down towards his ass and he swallowed. His cock was so hard now he was sure he wouldn’t be able to _go the distance_. Dean’s fingers were gentle and Sam let his legs fall open giving him easy access. “Lube, Sam.” Dean kept one hand against his ass and the other reached beneath the bed to bring out a bottle of red liquid. “This is so fucking hot Sam.” Dean poured a liberal amount of lube into his palm and ran his fingers through it. 

After that it was all a blur; familiar hands on his ass, competent fingers exploring, pain followed by almost instant pleasure, Dean on top of him, inside of him, moving slowly and carefully trying so hard not to hurt him. It was the single most sensuous experience of his entire life and he felt his mind fly away as his body took over. When he came he felt as if he were flying, and he cried out as his orgasm shook him to the core. Dean mirrored his cry and he felt the warmth of his brother inside him, the two of them joined irreversibly and he knew that this was something that they would never, ever come back from. They had always needed each other but this added an extra dimension to their relationship. Their love had risen above just brotherly and had become physical. Now they were together in all ways, and Sam wouldn’t want it any differently.

****

It wasn’t as if they were dating; things didn’t change overnight. They still bickered over what they were going to watch on TV, who was going to drive the car, or what they were going to eat for breakfast. Dean still avoided doing research, and Sam still went running in the mornings. Sam still moaned at Dean for clogging up his laptop with porn, and Dean still watched porn. Only real difference was that, when they _retired_ for the night they went together. Dean bought a bigger bed (still with memory foam), and kept lube in his drawer. Sam no longer had nightmares and he certainly got plenty of regular sex. It was a win – win situation, and one they didn’t really talk about.

They would always be family; the need to protect Sam was so deeply ingrained into Dean’s psyche that he would always be the _big_ brother, the older sibling and Sam didn’t really want that to change. As for him, he would always look up to Dean, secretly wish he was more like him, the hero worship he had felt as a child still there hidden deep beneath the surface.

What they were doing was viewed as wrong in the eyes of the world, a sin, unnatural but when had the Winchester’s ever cared for convention or _doing the right thing_. Sam didn’t even try to analyze it, he was happy and he was content and, while he would never have a normal life, he had this one and it was enough.

They never spoke the words; didn’t get all sappy and send each other Valentines. There had never been need for deep communication between them and there was no reason to start now. They were still just Sam and Dean against the world, still co-dependent, two men who had never had anything but each other.

Sam had always been the one running, the one searching for something beyond this life; a home, a family, white picket fences and a dog. Now he’d stopped running and, to his surprise, he’d found everything he ever wanted right here in the bunker. This was his life. Dean was his family. No picket fence, but Dean had promised him they would get a dog and, finally, Sam was home.

Fin


End file.
